He Fought With Honor
by Ell Roche
Summary: Sanada Genichirou wasn't the first person to ever tell her that she played tennis well. However, he was the only person who never laughed and tacked "for a girl" on at the end.


**Title:** He Fought With Honor

**Pairing:** Sanada Genichirou/Echizen Ryoma

**Warnings:** AU, genderbender, and minor randomness.

* * *

Echizen Ryoma sat perched on the edge of her seat in the stadium that hosted the National Tournament. Tezuka Kunimitsu and Sanada Genichirou were battling for the title; it was reminiscent of their match three years ago, though their skills now were not at all comparable to what they had been before. Though both men would deny it, she knew they had postponed turning professional for the sole desire to bring their team to the top of the nation.

Ryoma knew that her senpai would be offended and feel betrayed if they knew she was hoping for Rikkaidai to win. After all, Seigaku's tragic loss three years ago still rankled them. This was her senpai's chance for redemption; it was their final chance to achieve their dream and stand at the peak of Japan in tennis. In just a few weeks, the seniors would be off to universities, and they would never get to play tennis as a full team again.

Yet, Ryoma couldn't help it. She wanted Rikkaidai to win.

Her restless fingers twirled the engagement ring on her left hand as the never-ending rally continued. This was the first time that she had worn it in public. She wasn't ashamed of her feelings, but she didn't want her senpai to press her for answers, or to dig into her feelings. Ryoma loved them, but they were unbearably nosy: stalking each other, taking photographs of private moments, spreading rumors like fisherman's wives, and so on. They seemed to hold nothing but tennis sacred.

While Ryoma loved tennis with all her heart, she didn't want anyone picking at her feelings for her fiancé. She couldn't tolerate their nosiness in this matter. She didn't like anyone prodding her life, and they would do their utmost to rip it open and steal all her secrets if they knew she was engaged.

So she had worn the engagement ring—a lovely, heirloom set in gold—on a chain beneath her clothes.

It had taken more courage than Ryoma would ever admit to wear it out in the open today. However, when Genichirou won the Nationals for his team, and she knew he would (he practiced too much and loved tennis too much to ever lose), she wanted him to know that she was done hiding. Ryoma wasn't ashamed of him. And though it hadn't been her intention—she only wanted privacy at such a crucial stage in their relationship—Ryoma suspected he was beginning to think she thought of him as a dirty little secret.

That wasn't even remotely close to the truth.

Ryoma cheered as Genichirou won a point, uncaring if the Seigaku regulars heard her. After all, as much as she loved them and cherished their friendship, they had all fallen into the trap of male tennis players. Ryoma had even overheard Tezuka, himself, tell Fuji Shusuke, "Echizen has great potential, for a girl."

She knew he meant it as a compliment, of course. Tezuka had high hopes, just like her father, that a revolution could be made in women's tennis in Japan. However, the words had cut like a slice serve. Of all people, Ryoma had never thought Tezuka would tack on those hateful three words.

Keeping count was futile, because her father had surely said them more than a million times. "Oi, Brat! Not bad for a girl." Then he would smile his challenge, and come at her again. It was great motivation, Ryoma knew that; invariably, she always reacted to those words. Yet that didn't mean they didn't cut her to the quick every time they fell from someone's tongue.

What did her gender have to do with loving tennis? What did being a girl have to do with how good she was? Hadn't she beaten all of the Seigaku regulars at one time or another, even Tezuka? Hadn't she instigated weekend matches with the Monkey King (who said the words as frequently as her father, but always came back for more, especially when she kicked his butt)?

"Fault!" the umpire roared.

Ryoma winced as Genichirou's knees shook. If it was visible from the stands, then it must hurt a great deal. She wasn't surprise, though, seeing how often he had used _Strike like Lightning_. Her breath caught in her throat as Genichirou looked away from the court and found her in the crowd; his eyes burned with passion and fire. Her heart started pounding in her chest, and a grin spread across her face. He was the only person who could make her smile in public—not even Momoshiro Takeshi, her best friend, could accomplish that.

"Win," she whispered.

Though she knew he couldn't possibly have heard her, Ryoma smirked when Genichirou bowed to her. As he returned to the match, she knew he would win. More importantly, though, she remembered the first time he had ever bowed to her.

She had gone to visit the hospital that several of her senpai were in following the National Tournament in middle school. Most of them were only admitted for dehydration, but some of the injuries were more serious. She had just left Tezuka's room when she saw a crowd of teenagers in mustard-colored uniforms. Ryoma had pushed her way through the students, pausing at the sight of Sanada Genichirou lying on a bed, his legs wrapped and elevated.

"Oi, who are you?" someone demanded. She still didn't know who it had been; she didn't care, either.

"Why are you here?" the Rikkaidai captain asked. His face was beautiful, belying the harshness of his personality. Just like with Fuji, his face was a lie.

"He fought with honor," Ryoma replied without conscious thought. Throughout the match she had witnessed, that was something she couldn't deny. He had battled Tezuka with all he had, but didn't aim to cause injury, cheat, or any of the other petty things that prevailed in some tennis matches. He was confident enough in his own skills and talent to believe he could win on his own merits; it was a rare quality, and one that Ryoma greatly appreciated. "As the daughter of a Samurai, I recognize your strength."

Then, ignoring the baffled expressions and exclamations, she turned to leave the room. She had already barged in and interrupted the team's celebration, muted as it was by their vice captain's injuries. It wouldn't be proper to stay longer.

"What's your name?" His voice was soft, gruff, and as pointed as a katana.

"Echizen Ryoma." The expected inhales were as loud as she had become accustomed to hearing. Her father's name still awed and amazed. As his legacy, she sought to outshine him someday.

"When my legs are healed . . ."

Ryoma glanced over her shoulder when he didn't finish his sentence. "Yes?"

"Will you give me the honor of fighting against you?" His eyes were dark and burning, and for just a moment, Ryoma thought they would consume her.

She shoved the ridiculous thought aside and said, "When they're completely healed. Not a moment sooner." Ryoma didn't want to play him while he had a lingering injury; she didn't want to have to hold back. She had already beaten Tezuka multiple times, and this man had proven stronger than Tezuka. An opponent of that caliber didn't appear before her every day. She wanted to savor the challenge, and see if she could return the balls that were invisible.

He had bowed to her then, as if she were a fellow student in martial arts class, and said nothing. His face said it all. He couldn't wait. Neither could she.

Genichirou hadn't shown himself before her for almost four months. It felt like an eternity to Ryoma. She had never been patient, she had never liked waiting for what she wanted; unfortunately, that was a character trait she shared with the Monkey King. While others tried to keep her busy, they didn't succeed. No matter her opponent, all she wanted was to see Sanada Genichirou's face across the net. She wanted to stand with him on the court and overcome the force of nature.

Genichirou had come to her house on a Saturday, when she was lying on the porch in a yukata, eyes closed as she stroked Karupin. He was light on his feet, but her hearing was exquisite, because her father liked to sneak up on her and cuddle her—an act she protested most vociferously. She was not his _adorable little princess_!

When Ryoma opened her eyes, an emotion she couldn't name controlled his face. However, it was quickly replaced by blankness. "My legs are healed."

The grin that split her face at his pronouncement was painful. Without hesitation, Ryoma leapt to her feet and pulled the yukata back up her shoulder after it fell down again. Her mom insisted on buying them too big, because Ryoma was surely going to hit a growth spurt soon, wasn't she? "I'll change and be back in a minute." His cheeks were slightly red, but since it was so hot, Ryoma paid it little mind.

Now that she was older, she knew that Genichirou was blushing. Now that Ryoma was older, she wasn't as naïve. He had been as drawn to her as she was to him. However, she hadn't understood then.

The match had been worth the four-month wait. It had been worth all the agonizing and restlessness. Every rally was precious, and each serve etched itself in her memory. And even though she lost 7 games to 6, even though he beat her in the tie-breaker, Ryoma would never forget that day. Because at the end of the match, as she shook his hand over the net, Sanada Genichirou said, "You are very skilled." Those three cursed words (for a girl) never left his lips.

Ryoma knew, childish as it may sound, that was the moment she started falling for him.

Screams and cheering resounded through the stadium, bringing Ryoma's attention fully back to the present.

"With a score of 3 games to 2, Rikkaidai wins the National Tournament!" the umpire yelled.

As Genichirou shook Tezuka's hand, a satisfied look on his face, she rose from her seat and hurried toward the stadium floor. Her senpai were crushed, tears in their eyes, and shoulders slouched, but they would have to comfort each other in her place. They were her dearest friends, but she wasn't twelve anymore. She was sixteen years old and soon to be married. Her future husband would always be first now in her life.

Ryoma stopped behind where the Rikkaidai regulars were seated. With a delighted laugh, Kirihara Akaya picked her up and spun her around, before setting her down again on the floor of the stadium. "We did it!"

His laughter was infectious and carefree; Ryoma laughed with him, and then ruffled his wild black hair. "You did it," she agreed.

Marui Bunta popped an enormous bubble of gum, grabbed her shoulders, and spun her to face the court. "He's been waiting for you," he said, before giving her a gentle push.

Without any further prompting, Ryoma strolled onto the court. She walked at a normal pace, though she ached to sprint forward and throw herself into his arms. Ryoma was going to set all of his doubts to rest. She stood before him, tilted her head back, and then reached up and placed her hands on his cheeks. The sunlight sparkled blindingly off her engagement ring. "Congratulations on your victory, Genichirou." Then she leaned up and kissed him in from of the entire stadium.

Genichirou was sweaty, and his muscles were trembling from all the exertion, but that didn't stop him from crushing her against his chest.

His teammates' loud laughter and exclamations would have usually made her roll her eyes, huff, and walk away. Not today, though. Today, of all days, she wanted him to know she was ever steadfast in her love.

When Ryoma pulled back, she whispered, "You fought with honor."

His smile appeared; it was more of a quirking of the lips than anything. "Enough honor to win the Samurai's daughter?"

Ryoma held her engagement ring before his eyes. "What do you think?"

"I think," Genichirou said, fingers tracing the ring he had given her, "that I need to replace this with a wedding ring."

Heart beating its way into her throat, Ryoma pressed her forehead against his chest. He understood her insecurities as well as she understood his. Ryoma relaxed against him, imagined the life they would build together, imagined taking the world by storm, and said, "I like the sound of that."


End file.
